


The Flame and the Hearth

by Minoukatze



Category: Vermintide
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 04:22:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18229844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minoukatze/pseuds/Minoukatze
Summary: After a brush with death, Sienna Fuegonasus can no longer deny where her priorities lie. Set in the same universe as Homecoming.





	The Flame and the Hearth

“You’re back.”

The potter didn’t even turn to face her, though Sienna was sure that she’d been quiet in her approach. Throughout her mission she would linger near the shop, stealing moments to catch a glimpse of the various masterwork vases. Now that the mission was finally at an end, Sienna had wanted one last look at the potter’s wares before she moved on.

She told herself it was not necessarily to Senden, that she was still a free bird who could fly wherever she pleased, but even Sienna was becoming tired of this false bravado. She missed Klaus, and she hated being away from him. That was the truth of it, as obnoxious and inescapable as it was. Sienna Fuegonasus, Maven of the Flame, hero of Ubersreik and Helmgart, hedonist and dilettante extraordinaire; was in love. Every twinge from the mostly-healed gouge in her back reminded her. She’d stood on Morr’s doorstep, and everything she’d thought was essential fell away; the freedom, the debauchery, the flame. When she awoke from that awful torment, only one true need remained.

“I…” Sienna sputtered, stepping back toward the exit. “Uh, yes. I’d seen your shop in passing and just wanted a closer look. I’ll...”

“No.” The potter turned to Sienna, wiping soot from her cheek with a wry smile. “You were here a couple of years back, with your hunter friend. How did the vase go over?”

Sienna swallowed, hoping that the shock did not show upon her face. “It…uh…went very well! His now-wife was overwhelmed, and they are very happy indeed.”

“And now you are here for your own.” It wasn’t a question.

The potter’s presumptive attitude was beginning to irk Sienna. “I never said anything of the sort.”

“Mm-hmm. Stay right there.” The potter slipped into a back room obscured by a dusty canvas curtain.

Sienna did, surprised at her own lack or rancor. Shock and curiosity outweighed outrage for once, and she lingered awkwardly. Taking the time to examine the various vases at close range. There were a few which caught her eye, but none were perfect. None, except…

The potter emerged, brushing clay dust from her short, ruddy hair; bearing the loveliest vase Sienna had ever seen.

“What is that…” Sienna trailed off gazing in admiration at the wonder cradled in the potter’s muscular arms.

Swaths of black, like smoke, ribboned around crimson and gold, the inside lip revealing a vibrant green within. She barely grazed her fingertips upon it, as if it would crumble at her touch.

“It’s yours.” The potter handed it forward.

“Wh-what?” Sienna clutched the vase to her like a beloved babe. “It can’t…how could… _ why? _ ”

“My sister lives in Ubersreik with her man and kids. I knew you needed it by the look of you this week, so I made it. No…” The potter waved a dismissive hand when Sienna reached for her purse. “Take it, it’s a gift.”

“You made Victor pay for his,” Sienna remarked.

“He wasn’t a bright wizard, was he?” The potter chuckled. “Go on. Take it in good faith, and best of luck to you.”

 

*

 

Klaus had finally cleared out the inn, a pointed glare from Victor sending Wulf Andresen on his way. When Klaus barred the door, he looked back nervously at Victor and Walburga.

“You’re looking a bit green, Klaus,” Walburga fussed. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Klaus ran his fingers through his hair. “I, uh, just wanted your opinion on something.”

The pair watched him, perplexed, as he bustled back to his bedroom. Before he emerged, he called out to them.

“Hey, could you both turn around and face the front door?”

“This is ridiculous, Klaus,” Victor replied. “I know not what you are playing at, but I do not appreciate jests.”

“It’s no jest, Si-, I mean, Victor.” Klaus was still unaccustomed to such casual address.

This was a recent development, one borne from grief and desperation. Not a month before, Sienna had lay near death, ravaged by a necrarch during her last mission with The Captain. Walburga had knelt by her bed, having treated the physical wound, then singing prayers to Shallya, hopefully drawing the leftover taint from Sienna’s body. Klaus had not been prepared for the sight. Sienna, who had always been so vibrant and colorful, lay limp and grey upon Walburga and Victor’s bed; Victor on one side praying to Sigmar, Walburga on the other chanting to Shallya, a faint white glow lighting her outstretched palms. Two days later, Walburga still chanted, her voice little more than a rasp, but bearing fruit. Sienna had still been pale, but her skin now took on a healthy color, the black tinge to her veins completely subsided. Her breathing was steady, and she then looked more like a woman asleep than…

_ Klaus had exited the bakery, fled to the back of the building, and burst into tears. He’d been dumbstruck from the moment he had seen Sienna in her wrecked state, moving like a zombie until that very moment when relief unleashed the flood of anguish, stress, and horror of the previous days. _

_ "She hasn’t taken a turn, has she?” _

_ Klaus turned to see that he was not alone behind the bakery. The Captain stood in the shadows holding his pipe, pungent smoke drifting from its mouth. He had tensed, his face paling with every second. _

_ Klaus shook his head, wiping his eyes and trying to master himself. “Quite the opposite, she’s looking as if she’s finally turned a corner. I just…I’m just…” _

_ Saltzpyre nodded, relaxing, leaning against the wall and taking a pull on the pipe. _

_ “Walburga hates the smell of my pipe,” he explained with a faint smile. “I do not often smoke these days, but...” _

_ “Does this happen often?” Klaus asked suddenly before he could stop himself. His voice had taken a hysterical tinge that he could not control. _

_ Saltzpyre shook his head. He had eschewed his hat for the moment, and it was very strange to see him without it. Klaus wasn’t sure he had ever seen the top of Saltzpyre’s head before. He was still significantly taller than Klaus, but not nearly as imposing as usual. _

_ “I’d never seen her wounded like this,” Saltzpyre replied. “And we’d been through our share of scuffles. This creature, though…Zacharias the Everliving…I have no idea what had brought him this far west, but I feel the only reason we survived was that we fought him away from his own lands. And I’d thought Rasknitt was a challenge…” He took another draw from the pipe, offering it to Klaus. “No, this was not a normal battle, those are not the usual injuries, and I would like to tell you that this will never happen again.” He took the pipe back from Klaus. “But we cannot predict these things. It is a difficult life for people like us, and very nearly as difficult for the people who love us. You need to understand that.” _

_ Saltzpyre leveled a pointed look at Klaus, but it was not his usual piercing glare. There was something more profound there, not soft, exactly, but not unsympathetic. “Do you believe you are resilient enough for such a life?” _

_ … _ for the people who love us. _ Klaus did not dispute it. He could no longer pretend, and even if she fled, he knew he could not settle for anything less. _

_ “I don’t think I have a choice,” Klaus replied, an incredulous laugh rising from his chest. _

_ Saltzpyre nodded again. “You make her happy. I’ve never seen her so…easy.” _

_ He handed Klaus the pipe again, which Klaus gratefully took. He wasn’t sure what kind of tobacco was in Saltzpyre’s pipe, but it definitely seemed to be easing his nerves. _

_ “I’d never had much by way of family,” Saltzpyre said quietly. “We forged a bond, the five of us, and Sienna is…” He sighed gruffly. “Kruber and Fuegonasus and Bardin and even the elf, to an extent; we’ve…we’ve cobbled together a sort of family. And Sienna, well, she’s a sister of sorts. I need to know that you will be there for her.” _

_ “I will, I promise, Sir.” Klaus stammered. _

_ “Sir? Still?” Victor chuckled. “Bloody hell, man, we share a father. I think you can call me Victor.” _

There was no question of it, the time had come to act. Klaus set up the three vases on the table behind them. He hadn’t known which one to choose, so he’d bought two, and then there was the one Hermann had given him. They still looked shabby to him, especially considering Sienna was currently in Altdorf, and to come back to this…would it scare her off again? Would she even return? Saltz… _ Victor  _ seemed confident that she would return, but still…

“Right,” Klaus said. “You may turn around. What do you think?”

  
  


*

  
  


“We’re almost there…” Anneke peered out the window of the carriage. “It’s so strange to see a bright wizard heading there. I’ve seen so many people in this coach, but a bright wizard! This has been so exciting. Hey, are you all right?”

The words took a few moments to reach Sienna. The vase in her pack seemed to grow heavier with each passing mile.

“Hmmm?”

“You look pale, Maven.” The young woman leaned forward. “Are you all right?”

Sienna had been chatting happily with Anneke throughout the journey, scandalizing the girl with her seamier adventures. She had appreciated the company, and it was a welcome distraction to both a long, dull ride and the nerves proliferating deep in her gut. At the sight of a familiar hill, they seemed to have reached critical mass.

“Ah. Right. Perfectly fine,” Sienna replied, trying to summon her earlier bravado. “Did I tell you about the time I surprised the head of the Black Hook in the pantry of a cheese shop with his trousers around his ankles?”

“What?!?”

Sienna launched into the tale, trying to infuse it with her usual tawdry hilarity, but, while Anneke seemed to be thoroughly shocked and delighted, Sienna knew that she was just going through the motions. She continued, though, drawing it out as the coach pulled through the gates, trying to extend the conversation for as long as she could.

“Wait...are you saying that he served  _ that _ cheese to the burgher that evening?” Anneke shrieked with laughter.

“It’s only what he deserved for selling out his secretary,” Sienna grinned. “And she watched the whole thing with me behind the false bookcase.”

“Oh Taal!” Anneke wiped her eyes, wheezing. “When did this happen?”

“Oh,” Sienna mused. “Not that long, I’d left the Bright College a few years back, so...oh…hmm...” Sienna swallowed. “I suppose that was about twenty-five years ago.”

“Not that long?” Anneke giggled. “That was before I was born! Oh...” Anneke sobered quickly. “Wait, I didn’t mean it like…”

Had the girl been a little older or a bit less silly, Sienna would have had words at least. Instead, Sienna smirked unbothered as the girl sputtered apologies all over the carriage as it pulled up to the inn.

“Oh, go off it,” Sienna chuckled finally, when she was satisfied that the girl had suffered enough. “If you’re lucky enough to reach my age, twenty-five years will be naught but an eyeblink to you too.”

It did get Sienna thinking, though.

Klaus was what...forty-five years old? And Sienna was...older than that. Age had never been an issue that had bothered Sienna, quite the contrary. Sienna reveled in her experience, her wild, long life; a life that she’d been assured many times since she’d been a child would be short and violent.  _ But here I stand _ , she would think after every victory, oftentimes over the same folk who’d made those false predictions.  _ Here I stand, every line and scar and ache hard-earned. Here I stand, proud of every day endured and conquered _ . Only sad little chits fretted about such trivial matters.

As for bed partners, it had hardly been an impediment. Anyone put off was clearly dull and unworthy of either her time or the mind-blowing experience she would provide. She held no grudges. When Markus had put off her overtures, she’d been mildly disappointed (he  _ did _ have a pretty impressive physique), but the more time she’d spent with him the more she’d known he’d have been rather vanilla and uninspiring. And it had not been her age that had put Saltzpyre off, but Sienna’s “crudeness.”  _ Boring _ . Sienna was direct and had no time for any dance around the main event or what she enjoyed. Moreover, she’d had neither the patience nor the inclination to try to change his mind, and had frankly been mortified that she’d propositioned him in the first place. He would have been far too much work, too much need to prop up his fragile ego. A risque, alcohol-fueled chat with Kirstin and Walburga had confirmed her suspicions- Markus was apparently like a steam engine, but by Tarnus he sounded mundane as hell. Moreover, Walburga clearly had the patience of a saint. It was fair enough. It had all gone well for them all in the end, anyway. And Klaus certainly had no qualms, but mere sex was not the issue.

Sienna fingered the pack which held the vase, she considered for the first time that perhaps her age might give Klaus pause in this situation. She regarded Klaus through the window of the inn. He wasn’t exactly a spring chicken, and if a gorgeous fellow like him had wanted to wed he could easily have done so at this point. That was the issue. He would not have tied himself down at all, so why on earth would he choose an unstable fifty-six-year-old adventurer?

“I have to say,” Anneke said as the driver unloaded the trunks. “You’re probably the most exciting passenger we’ve had in this little coach, and Fritz gets a lot of adventuring folk on their way North! I hope you come back this way too. I want to hear more about the Red Hook gent with the wooden leg and the accordion.”

Sienna nodded with a smile, her usual roguish response swallowed by the overwhelming anxiety consuming her.

“I...uh…” Sienna leaned forward. “I can tell you about it now…”

“Oh,” Anneke laughed. “I’m sure you’ll be wanting out of this coach! I know that my husband and I will be heading straight to the market for lunch.”

“Sienna?”

Klaus had come out and was standing awkwardly in front of his establishment, ghost-pale and wringing his hands.  _ Ooh, that does  _ not _ look promising _ .

“Oh my,” Anneke grinned. “Looks like you have a date with a handsome gent! You’d better get out first.”

Sienna smiled stiffly. “Many thanks, darling. Good journey to you.”

  
  


*

  
  
  


“The inn’s empty,” Sienna observed.

“Uh, yeah.” Klaus rubbed the back of his neck. “I cleared everyone out for the moment.”

Even in her agitated state, Sienna couldn’t help but appreciate the swell of his bicep through his thin cambric shirt, the lean line of his hips, his long but sturdy legs. He’d kept up his exercise regime, Sienna was pleased to note. His hair fell forward and obscured his clever green eyes, and Klaus irritably pushed it back.

“I, uh…” Klaus began. “I appreciate you writing while you were gone. I really liked your letter.”

“Did you?” Sienna smiled faintly, setting her pack on the table beside her.

“I did.” Klaus straightened up. “I always love your letters. Makes when you’re gone a little easier.”

He halted, sucking in his breath. Klaus must have felt he’d overstepped, the poor dear. Before Sienna’s injury, she probably would have teased him, making light of such sentiment in the attempt to mask her own. Either that or, fearing she’d become too entangled, make her excuses and hop the next carriage out regardless of destination. Now, though, Sienna eased. There was a mild, reflexive jolt to run, but it was easily ignored. Sienna was tired of running.

“So you missed me,” she replied quietly.

“‘Course I did,” Klaus said. “Always do. I’m just...damn it all, Sienna, I’m tired of playing. I used to love the games, the knife edge, the gamble of it all, but I think I’m exhausted and..I...I…”

Klaus turned away from her, and Sienna could swear he was close to tears. Before she could answer, he continued.

“I know you’ve no use for plans, my Spark,” Klaus kept his voice steady. “But I need to know...where are you going? Are you to keep wandering? The future is heavy on my mind lately, and I need to know what you would have of it.”

Before Klaus, it had been a different answer, a grimmer one. She’d planned to go out in a blaze of glory, of course. What was the point of plans when you were on the hunt for the next scourge to annihilate, the next high? There had been no future, only the hunt, the flame. Victor had had a similar mindset before Senden. It was the one of the few things she’d respected about him, at first, at least. He had been very clear about his intention to find the most formidable foes and take out as many possible before they destroyed him. It was this shared nihilism that had kept the group going in the deepest of pits, and Sienna had counted it as one of their greatest strengths. Thus, though Sienna had been happy that her friend had traded self-destruction for contentment, she had regarded him with a sense of pity and no small amount of envy.  _ How quaint you’ve become, Victor.  _

Of course, that pride had come to bite her on the ass, though she hadn’t given in without a fight. Before the necrarch, Sienna knew the answer, but she would have been damned before she spoke it aloud. She wasn’t so mundane as to want to settle down. If she wanted to take a trip to Weissbruck and partake of a four-way with two drunken soldiers and a bored countess; then by Tarnus she would. That she’d nearly fallen asleep during meant nothing. That she’d snuck out past midnight to reread Klaus’ badly (but earnestly) written letter was by the by. That she’d written a ten page letter back, and then burned it to cinders only proved the efficacy of the whisky she’d drunk. She wasn’t a pathetic milksop like Victor.  _ She _ hadn’t succumbed, damn it all.

“Oh Klaus,” Sienna breathed. “I am so very tired of running.”

Klaus turned, favored her with a long, heavy look, and disappeared into his room. Sienna lingered, wondering if she should follow, when he re-emerged laden with three vases. One was a garish, rusty red with rather tacky yellow flames painted upon it; the second, black with silver skulls; the third was very plain, naught but a light glaze upon it.

“I...uh…” Klaus was grasping the nape of his neck again. “You need not choose any of them. I will not tie you down if you find the idea unacceptable. I just...I only want you to know my intentions.”

“You want to marry me three times?” Sienna smiled.

“I couldn’t choose,” Klaus admitted. “So I figured you could. The first one didn’t turn out nearly was well as I’d hoped; the second one’s kind of grim, but I know you like skulls; the last was left to me by, uh, the Captain’s father, but he warned against that one as that marriage had not been a very successful one.” Klaus let out a nervous laugh. “I don’t know. You’re better at these things than I am.”

Sienna could feel the tears stinging her eyes and fizzing into steam. She grabbed her pack and set it on the table with the others.

“You’re right,” Sienna said, removing her vase from the pack. “I am.”

“This is magnificent.” Klaus looked faint as he reverently examined the vase. “Are you...are you serious?”

“I cannot promise that I will not travel, or that I can keep from straying,” Sienna bit her lip. “And you know that I am excitable, and jealous, and…”

“And brilliant and wild and vibrant and everything is grey when you aren’t here.” Klaus caressed her cheek. “Taal knows I tried to go on without you, but it will not do. I need you, Sienna, and I know that I am a dull, wretched little innkeeper but I would do everything in my power to please you.”

“Nothing feels right when I am not with you,” Sienna admitted, pulling Klaus close. “Gods, you have carved yourself a hole in my life and nothing else can fill it.” She raked her fingers through his hair, brushing her lips against his as she spoke, finally feeling as if all were right with the world. “I am done running, Klaus. What I have to give, it’s yours.”

His hands were strong and reassuring against her back. Klaus’ mouth found hers, and Sienna melted into his arms. All notion of panic was gone.  _ Home _ . It was such a foreign sensation, but it felt so good to stop fighting it. Klaus withdrew and pressed his forehead to hers, and for a time they were beyond words.

A knock at the door recalled them to reality. They looked up to find Wulf Andresen peering in the window.

“Piss off, Wulf, we’re closed,” Sienna called.

Klaus guffawed. “See? Already you’ve settled in.”

“Gormann help me,” Sienna grinned, then slapped her forehead.

“What is it?”

“Bloody hell,” Sienna huffed. “You know Victor’s going to be insufferable.”

“He certainly will.” Klaus followed suit smacking his own forehead. “No avoiding that. You know what we can do, though?”

“What’s that?”

Klaus lifted her onto a table, spread her thighs, and knelt before her. “Celebrate our engagement in a manner in which he would sorely disapprove.”

Sienna let out a wild laugh. “I think married life will suit us after all.”

  
  



End file.
